Tomato Proposal ((Spamano))
by SherlockSparkleParty
Summary: "I promise to love you until I fade into the sands of time. So I ask you now, Lovino Vargas... will you marry me?" He opened the velvet box to reveal an intricate white gold diamond ring. And then there was silence. No matter how much he moved his lips, Lovino couldn't get anything out. He was so stunned, and exuberant nonetheless... ((Yes? No? READ IT NAO. :3))


_**/Alright dudes. This is something I wrote with my friend. All of the Romano paragraphs were written by mwah, and the Spain paragraphs were written by her. I hope you enjow what we wrote together, and hopefully she and I can do more soon! ~/**_

Summer had come and passed quietly for the Spaniard sitting on the wide porch of his country estate. The tomato fields shone with the fiery colors of the setting sun. Sweet, gently music rolled across the expanse from Antonio's guitar as he waited for Lovino to return from town.  
With a sigh and a puff of his cheeks, Lovino headed up the walk towards Antonio's estate. His somewhat long hair hung over his forehead, matted there by a light sweat, as he muttered, "Why does it have to be so goddamn hot?" The Italian finally, after long-whiles last, hurried up to the driveway and onto the porch. He said, "Hey, tomato bastard, I'm home."  
"Hola, Romano," the Spaniard smiled brightly at his favorite Italian. For all of Lovi's hateful remarks, Toni couldn't help but love him. "Welcome back," he sat the guitar down and hugged his amante, "How was your trip?"  
Lovino pulled an arm around the Spaniard, slightly hugging him back and rolling his eyes (secretly, of course). "It was fine. Annoying as hell, and too fucking hot," he said with a complaining tone. The Italian glanced over at the guitar, and hid the smirk that was playing at his lips. "You got your guitar out," he confirmed, looking up at Antonio. He was a little taller than him; not by a whole lot at all, however.  
Antonio guessed by the slight amount of sarcasm to his tone that Lovi had done something while he hadn't been facing the Spaniard. He let it slide, too ecstatic that the Italian was home to be perturbed. "Sí, I did.. I missed it as I missed you," he said before daring to kiss Lovi.  
A blush set upon Lovino's cheeks, and he just stood and let him kiss him for a moment before ramming his elbow into Antonio's shoulder. He complained, "Chigi, d-don't kiss me when I don't expect it, damn it!" He sighed, and then let the embrace with his dear one end abruptly. He finished with, "At least wait until I'm fucking ready." He pouted slightly. It was written all over his face that it had been a long day for him, and he was exhausted and ready to pass out as it was. He leaned on the Spaniard, yawning in an improper manner. "I'm tired."  
Antonio's smile widened, despite the dull, lingering pain in his shoulder. A sly adoration colored his tone, "So you have no qualms about me kissing you if you are expecting it, my little tomate?" He tucked part of Lovino's hair behind his ear. Lovino was so adorable when he was sleepy... it made Antonio wonder what he could get away with that night. "I can tell, amante," the smile softened as he spoke.  
"No one ever said that. All I said was not to do it I don't expect it, bastard," the Italian mumbled, barely pronouncing words straight. His nose twitched a little at the touch of his soft hair being moved, and his eyes started to try to close on him. He really didn't mind Antonio treating him like such a lover; but he acted like it bothered him, for some other reasons that Lovino wouldn't dare speak of. His cheeks pink and his lips curled like he was going to yawn again, he said, "Take me to the bedroom. I need some fucking sleep before I pass out right here."  
Antonio slung his guitar over his back, then picked Lovino up bridal style. He quietly prayed to Santa Maria that the Italian wouldn't resist being carried so. "Hmm," Antonio kept his thoughts silent for a moment before deciding to voice them, "That's what you say, Lovino, but I wonder sometimes."  
Despite the silent praying the Spaniard had done, Lovino tried to push himself out of his arms, saying, "H-hey, put me down, dammit!" He continued to struggle, finding it of no use and just an utter waste of what little energy that he had left. He quit struggling at Antonio's last words, and he stared at him with a cocked eyebrow and a tilted head. "Hm? What the hell are you going on about now?" he asked, another pout coming on as he looked up into the other's emerald green eyes with a wondering expression.  
The Spaniard stumbled slightly as Lovino struggled, nearly losing his balanced completely. His expression betrayed his worry, "I don't want to drop you... and you asked me to take you to the bedroom." After sitting Lovino down on the bed, he deposited his guitar on it's stand and turned to face the Italian. "You say hurtful things all the time, mi amante," Antonio sat down next to him with a doelike look, "Do you mean any of it?"  
Lovino said, "Take me there. Not fucking carry me like your newly wed bride or some shit." He groaned and, like he had when he had first hugged the Spaniard when he got him, rolled his eyes dramatically. He relaxed a little bit when he was put down onto the bed, and he brought his legs to himself to cross them. He stared at Antonio like he was insane, saying, "Y-Yeah, I know I do." He shrugged, then suddenly looking down at his thin, crisscrossed legs. A very odd feeling fell over the sleep-deprived Italian as he swallowed and continued, "Hell no. I guess I don't. I mean, most of the time."  
The Spaniard couldn't have stopped that small pang of joy that ran rampant in his heart when Lovino mentioned being his newly wed even if he'd wanted to. The emotion was dampened minutely as he saw something akin to guilt in the Italian's eyes. His voice was unusually quiet as he pressed the matter, "Then why do you say them..?"  
A nervous feeling pressed down against Lovino's chest, and he began to sweat more than he already was. He shook his head and said, "I-It's no big deal, alright? I'm going to damn sleep. Buonanotte." And with that, the Italian laid his legs out and pushed himself under the covers. He buried himself inside of them, carefully avoiding the question he was so quietly asked. He curled up into a little ball, closing his eyes tightly and trying to fall asleep as quick as he could (though it was unsuccessful, from his guilty and worried mood).  
Antonio stood with a quiet sigh. It *was* a big deal to him, but he let it go.. for now. "Buenas noches," he murmured, and then kissed his forehead before leaving the room. The Spaniard sat down at the kitchen table and silently wondered why Lovino wouldn't answer such a simple question.  
He blushed and murmured, "Mhmm." Once aware of Antonio's leaving, Lovino sat up from under the blankets, sweating a great deal. Throwing the blankets off of the bed, the Italian huffed. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and then began to whisper to himself. "Shouldn't I tell him?" he asked himself, in the quietest voice you could possible imagine. "Damn it, do I tell the bastard why or not?" He felt a sharp migraine hit his head, and he collapsed back onto his pillows. He pulled one close and stared at the ceiling. "What the hell do I have to lose anyway?"  
The Spaniard lost himself in his thoughts for a time, barely noticing as a few tears cascaded to the wood grain beneath his elbows. He heard the blankets hit the floor, but didn't respond. He couldn't even bring himself to keep his typical smile on his face. Breaking from this new-found morose, Antonio made his way around the house. He made sure the windows were shut, the light were off and the doors were locked. He paused outside the bedroom long enough to remove the last of the tears from his face before meandering to the bed, collapsing a short distance from Lovino.  
Letting go of the pillow, Lovino made a concerned face that was dedicated to the hurt Spaniard. He had heard him come in, he had felt him sit down ever so close, so he turn his back to him. He crossed his arms across his chest, trying to comprehend how he was going to tell him his reasoning. But with every moment wasted, sitting next to him, the guilt and pain got a little stronger. He had been too crass to the man, and he was aware of it, but how was he going to apologize? How was he going to make it up? A small hesitation hit the Italian before he said, "I'm fucking sorry," and figuring that it was the best it was going to get, at least for now. Until he could seek out some other way to say so.  
Antonio rolled over to sort of face Lovino, "Qué?" He hadn't heard what the Italian had said; his thoughts had more or less drown everything else out.  
"I said I'm fucking sorry. Don't make me say it again, per favore," he said through clenched teeth. He turned to look at him all the way, but didn't make eye contact in the least bit. He didn't want to see the man's eyes; afraid that they would be sad or wilted.  
Antonio's expression softened considerable and a loving smile found its way to his face. He sat up, wordlessly offering a hug to the Italian.  
Giving in, Lovino scooted over to him and wrapped his arms around Antonio's waist. He hugged him like that, laying his head in the Spaniard's lap and closing his eyes. He curled up again, finding himself quite comfortable while so close to his secretly beloved. "I'm sorry," he whispered, kinder and more to himself than to anyone else, considering Antonio probably didn't catch it.  
Antonio fell back on the pillows, absentmindedly stroking Lovino's soft hair. He heard the whispered words and held them just as delicately close to his heart. "It's alright, mi amante," he mumbled sleepily, "Te amo." Within a few minutes, he was fast asleep.  
A soft noise came out of Lovino's lips, and he opened his eyes to turn over in Antonio's lap and look up at his face. His eyes were wide open as he whispered, "Ti amo, borchia." He smirked at his words, a little stunned that he had called him "boss" when that was just a little thing that Antonio would call himself to the small Italian. He rested his arms against Antonio's upper thighs, and rested his chin against his own hands, admiring him as he slept. He couldn't sleep anymore, even as tired as he was.  
Antonio murmured incoherently in his sleep as he dreamed of tomato fields, happier days and the ring hiding in his guitar case. The perfect proposal played on the fringes of his dream. If only he weren't such a coward...  
Unaware of the dastardly thoughts of the older one, Lovino continued to stare at his face for a bit. He bit his lip and whispered, "Antonio, I know you're pissed off at me. Probably. But I didn't mean any of it...Ti amo così tanto, con tutto il mio cuore." He leaned up and placed a kiss upon Antonio's lips before rolling down next to him and cuddling against him, somewhat happier.

The Italian opened his eyes, realizing that it had been a full night that had passed, and he had been unconscious the whole time. He knew he was going to sleep that long; but what about the other? He looked to his side to see a peacefully sleeping Spaniard. A small smiled played at his lips as he sat up and noticed that the sunlight of a new day was pushing itself through the window. He almost wanted to wake him, to speak to him, but he didn't want to disturb him in all honesty.  
Antonio hugged Lovino around the waist when he sat up, nuzzling into the Italian's stomach and mumbled quietly.  
A little surprised, Lovino threw his arms up just slightly. But, realizing, he wrapped his arms around Antonio and hugged him as tight as he could. He listened to the mumbling just slightly, his hearing still adjusting, as he just woke up.  
Antonio woke up shortly afterward, still snuggled up to Lovino. He didn't want to move after he realized that the Italian was *holding* him for a change. He hummed quietly for a moment, then spoke without moving, "Buenos días, my little tomate."  
Paying no attention to the humming, Lovino rested his head against Antonio's for just a little while. Then, when he heard Antonio's voice, he let go and said, "O-Oh, you're awake. Buongiorno, t-tomato bastard." His cheeks turned a very light crimson, and he leaned back a little and took his head off of the other's.  
Antonio sighed faintly at the loss, then looked up. A grin crossed his face as he noted the blush on Lovino's. He decided to tempt fate and let his hands wander under the Italian's shirt, caressing his back. "Sí, mi tomate," he said innocently.  
The blush upon the Italian's face only grew darker and darker. "Wh-What the hell are you doing?" he questioned. But, other than that, there was no further protest about the matter. He simply let Antonio do as he was.  
"Hmm," Antonio pretended to consider this for a moment, then decided to play coy, "What do you mean, mi tomate?" His hands just barely ghosted across Lovino's silken skin.  
A chill shot through Lovino's body at the slight touch, and he knew that the fake timidness was on play. He bit at his lip and said, "You're hands are up my damn shirt. Why?" He didn't feel like admitting it, but he was just eager for more is all.  
"I don't see you resisting," Antonio spoke just above a whisper as he nuzzled back against Lovino's stomach.  
Lovino knew that the Spainiard had a good point; he wasn't resisting, at all. He merely nodded and slowly put his arms around him again. He fell silent, not daring to speak in case he would say the wrong thing.  
The Spaniard kissed the delicate skin just above Lovino's navel; his shirt had ridden up ever so slightly due to Antonio's other ministrations.  
Lovino made a surprised noise, and his stomach flipped nervously when the kiss came upon him. He moved his arms up and laid them against the bedsheets. He looked down at Antonio curiously, knowing that his skin was warming up and reddening a little bit.  
Antonio moved with him, sitting up slightly and peppering the Italian's exposed midriff with feathery kisses. A ripple of joy ran down his spine.  
The feeling made Lovino shiver a little bit, a chuckle accidentally slipping out. He lifted a hand and covered his mouth with it. "S-Sorry," he said, his voice softened a bit.  
Antonio moved to look his amante in the eye with an amused smirk. He questioned Lovino playfully, "Ticklish, mi tomate?"  
"No, of course not you bastard. I was just...laughing at something that I thought of," he lied, despite the absentminded and wide grin on his soft pink lips. He looked right back, moving his hand away from his mouth and revealing the expression.  
"Hmm... you're lying, mi amor," merriment danced in his green eyes. Antonio had no intention of letting Lovino dodge this subject today. He placed an almost chaste kiss on his Italians lips.  
"Who says?" And then, before another word would exit the Italian's lips, warm lips were against his. He kissed him back strongly, a smug look in his eyes showing before he closed them. He wasn't going to lie anymore, he decided, at least not to Antonio.  
Antonio pulled back slightly after a brief battle for dominance, " I believe I did, mi tomate." Propping himself up on one arm, the Spaniard played with a stray lock of the Italian's hair.  
Lovino sighed at him with great exaggeration, and said, "Hmm." He looked down at the Spaniard and made a very rare but large smile, one that could possibly light up the whole world if he wanted to do so. He playfully set his feet upon Antonio's and kissed his forehead lightly, staying there for a moment with a small laugh.  
Antonio smiled back, delighted that he hadn't met violent resistance this go around. He played right back with Lovino's feet and nuzzled into the kiss. His drowsy eyes gazed lovingly back at the Italian. "What's on your mind?" he queried.  
Pulling back from Toni, Lovino made a face that had nihility written all over it. He replied, "Nothing. Honestly, not a damn thing in hell." He took one of Antonio's hands in his and held it tight. "Ti amo. Ti amo, borchia," he finished with, the smile shrinking to a small grin.  
Antonio attempted to recall the words he'd overheard Feli saying to Germany several months ago. "Anch'io ti amo così tanto," he brought Lovino's hand up to kiss it.  
A dark crimson took way and became dominant over every other feature upon Lovino's face. He tugged his hand away a little bit, but put it right back and let him kiss it with soft caring lips. "Ti amo," he replied softly.  
The Spaniard bit his lip, his thoughts suddenly elsewhere for a moment. Worry perplexed his features as he warred with with himself over four small words. One short question plagued his mind, quickly replaced with calm determination. Antonio kissed his amante's hand once more, then untangled himself long enough to retrieve a small box from his guitar case.  
"What's wrong?" asked Lovino, taking note of the other's obviously troubled and complicated features. The Italian kept a sharp eye on every move that Antonio made as the once nervous-looking Spaniard pulled out the tiny box. Lovino began to feel a little uneasy, in expectant patience for the next words. The smile that once was playing with his lips was completely vanished by now.  
A dozen emotions lingered in those green eyes as took a knee and spoke with a slight quiver to his voice. "Right from the start, you were a thief, you stole my heart," a calmer adoration steadied his tone, "And I, your willing victim. We've been through thick and thin together. I've loved you since day one." He paused to fondly remember how the two of them had met. It had been so long ago in a tomato field like the one they had raised. "I promise to love you until I fade into the sands of time. So I ask you now, Lovino Vargas... will you marry me?" He opened the velvet box to reveal an intricate white gold diamond ring.  
And then there was silence. No matter how much he moved his lips, Lovino couldn't get anything out. He was so stunned, and exuberant nonetheless (at least on the inside he was; not even a little excitement was showing on the outside). But he instead stared right at Antonio, a look a happiness seemingly written all over his face, and he said, "You goddamn bastard! Just a moment ago you looked you were fucking worried, like you killed someone! You scared the hell out of me!" His eyes were welling up with tears, and no one could say other than him whether they were happy tears, thankful tears, proud, mad, sad, or anything of the sort. The Italian nodded in a quick fashion. "Si, il mio amore...I'll marry you."  
Pride and absolute joy radiated from him as Antonio returned to his place on the bed, offering to put the ring on his fiance's hand. Once it was on his left hand, the Spaniard kissed the ring and began wiping away Lovino's tears. "Mi amor... if I'd murdered anything, it would have been my own heart if you had said no," he spoke sincerely.  
Looking at the ring with very careful precision and deft, Lovino felt pure and genuine happiness. He couldn't believe that he was getting married to the one; the one who gave him all the love he could ask for without asking for a kind gesture in return; the one who took care of him from the very beginning; the one who...Well, the one who actually understood how he felt about most everything. The Italian nodded at Antonio's words. He spoke for himself, "Why would I say no to you? There's about as much of a fucking chance of that as there is a snowball's chance in hell." He smirked widely, trying to make the tears cease but finding it extremely hard.  
This was love.


End file.
